


John

by Danagirl623



Series: Scarworship [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Love, M/M, One Shot, Scar Worship, Scars, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 10:09:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15839088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danagirl623/pseuds/Danagirl623
Summary: Sherlock asked John to take his shirt off.No beta!





	John

“My love, why do you always wear long sleeves? Why do you never take your shirt off?”

 

“Same reason you wear suits and a belstaff. Battlegear.”

 

“You’re not at war.”

 

“I hate my body, darling,” The blonde haired, blue eyed man caught the brunette, brown eyed man’s eye. 

 

“Let me see your back. I’ll be the judge of this.” 

 

John Watson glanced at Sherlock Holmes with fear in his eyes. He stood up, and pulled the loose gray thermal shirt off over his head. He dropped it on the floor before he sat down. 

 

“John,” Sherlock breathed, looking at the marks on John’s arms. They were circular, white, and scattered all over both arms and shoulders. Sherlock touched one, then another, then a third.

 

“Deduce me,” John said, leaning back in his consulting chair. The cloth pressed into his back.  For the first time in 20 years, John Watson had his top off in the living room of his current home. He was still nervous- Hell! He was downright fearful. He’s rarely shown his back to anyone, except the medical team who fixed his shoulder, and his deceased wife.

 

Sherlock looked at both shoulders and arms, going through his mind palace. 

 

_ About 3-4 mm, practically circular- no, not perfectly circular. The center is darker than the outsides, but they are all white. Not uniformly so. _

 

Mentally he sorted objects in his head, as he made motions with his hands. He swept them across John’s shoulders, shook his head, then made a stabbing motion. 

 

_ Oh! That fits! _ Sherlock nodded.

 

John grinned at his boyfriend’s reflection in the window watching him think. “You’re so god damn handsome, Sherlock Holmes.” 

 

“Hush now, John. I’m working,” Sherlock chided, touching the scars one last time. “Cigarette burns,” He said, with a frown. “Who?”

 

“My dad.”

 

Sherlock growled, “Why would he do this to my John?”

 

“I wasn’t yours, then.”    
  


Sherlock growled again, and shook his head. “Your beautiful skin.”   
  


“He lost his ashtray, so I got to be the lucky one. Harry’s skin is perfect,” John said, making eye contact with his boyfriend in the window. “So it was worth it.”

 

“You are such a self-sacrificing arsehole,” Sherlock said, as his eyes roamed for the next scar. 

 

Sherlock drew his finger along the line at the base of John’s neck. “Result of a mugging,” Sherlock murmured. “I remember reading it when I was younger.”

 

“Impossible, Sherlock Holmes.”

 

“John Watson, I remember everything. So when I met you again, I went digging through my mind palace and I remember reading that you got mugged. You were 607 meters away from me at the time.”

 

John suppressed a smirk, before he managed, “Scared were you?”

 

Sherlock shot him a look. “You were drunk and someone tried to steal your cell phone. I was not scared in the lest.”

 

“Almost,” John grinned. “He was drunk and took my date home. So I jumped on his back and she knifed me.” 

 

“She knifed you?”

 

“Yes,” John confirmed with a nod. “She was furious that I was poor. So she called her loser boyfriend and they left. I was drunk, I attacked.”

 

“Oh, John. Once again you are so stupid.”

 

“You don’t love me for my huge brain. It’s why I love you!” John smiled, then leaned back. “Kiss me, Sherl,”  Sherlock leaned over John and kissed his forehead gently.

 

“I have a lot of chemical defects for you,”  Sherlock said, with a grin. 

 

John chuckled, “Again.”  The brunette detective leaned over and kissed John’s lips this time. 

 

“Bad angle.” Sherlock muttered as he touched the left shoulder gunshot wound. He ran his finger over it, then leaned over and kissed it gently. “This one is the best one. It brought you home to our city-Well, it wasn’t our city then but it very quickly became ours.”

 

“That day in the lab, when you asked me for my phone. I was so sure you were an arrogant arsehole-”

 

“You weren’t wrong,” Sherlock murmured, as he kissed along the scar. 

 

“I realized that “arsehole” you claimed to be was because of how broken you were.”  

 

Sherlock scoffed, then came in front of John, and sat down on the floor in front of his boyfriend. 

 

“God, ‘Lock, I enjoy you below me like this.” John smirked, leaned forward. Sherlock ran his finger along a scar that was 8 cm in length just to the left of John’s navel.  

 

“What happened here?”

 

“A drunken knife fight in afghanistan when I was-”  John cut himself off. “Okay, so that one was my fault. It was really stupid,  I know.” Sherlock grinned up at his boyfriend, then glanced over John’s chest. 

 

Sherlock’s hand pushed up John’s chest and ran fingers over the burn scar from the bonfire he was trapped in. “I hate this one. I should have been faster.” 

 

“You got there, Sherl. You have always saved me since the day we met. I knew that you’d find me and you did!” John admitted proudly.

 

Sherlock sat up on his knees, and moved his boyfriend’s arms to the side. He looked at the scar that started on the left upper arm, went across the chest, and ended on the right arm. Sherlock ran both hands over it, trying to piece it together. “A hot crowbar?” Sherlock asked, shaking his head. “No that’s not correct at all. What is it?”

 

“My dad hit me with a belt when I was seventeen. He was trying to get me to confess to covering for my sister who really stole the car.”

 

“Why didn’t you just confess?”

 

“Oh, Sherlock. You were the baby brother. Precious baby ‘Lock never got in trouble. Mycroft always protected you.” 

 

“Mycroft would not have taken a beating like that.”

 

“He’s risked his job at the British Government for less. So I think he would have taken that beating,”  John said, holding his hands for Sherlock to grasp. “Can I show you some things I do like?” 

 

“Please.” Sherlock agreed, as he placed his hands on John’s upturned ones. John leaned over and kissed the tops of Sherlock’s right hand, then to the left one.  John took Sherlock’s right hand and placed those fingers on the inside of his own wrist. 

 

“The first time we ran through London, you grabbed me here. I felt your fingers burn into my flesh, like a hot knife into butter. I felt your fingers there for weeks.”  John admitted, pressing Sherlock’s fingers harder. 

 

John moved his boyfriend’s fingers to his left palm. John laid his right hand on top of the stacked set. “The first time I noticed I wasn’t shaking or using the cane, after our first run through London.”

 

John pulled his boyfriend’s violinist fingers up to trace the outside part of his own left ear. “The first time you absentmindedly kissed me. You were so deep in your ramblings, I wasn’t paying attention. You came over to me, bent over, snagged my tea cup, kissed my ear, and disappeared into the kitchen.”

 

“I remember every single kiss I’ve given you, I don’t remember that.”

 

“Well,” John laughed, “Maybe you missed in your aim? You completely kissed my ear.”

 

“I’ll fix my aim, darling.” 

 

John took the hand that was still touching his ear and pulled it over to his other shoulder. He placed it there and held his lovers’ hand there. “My right shoulder. The first time I ever saw you cry, you hid your face on my shoulder and sobbed like your heart was breaking. Do you remember why?”

 

“Because Mary was dead.”

 

“Correct. Mary was dead and you were so miserable about my wife dying you sobbed-”

 

“I liked Mary! She was so smart!” Sherlock defended himself.

 

“I liked Mary too. That’s why I married her,” John reminded him. “Plus, I was so deep in denial about loving you.”

 

Sherlock smiled up at John, and grabbed John’s face in both his hands. They met somewhere in the middle and kissed for a few minutes. “Thank you so much for sharing your fears with me.”

 

“Mmm,” John said, leaning further forward. “More?”

 

“Greedy boy,” Sherlock teased, pulling his boyfriend down closer to himself. John leaned forward, a bit too forward, and ended up slipping off his chair. He landed on Sherlock with a loud “oof!”  John rolled off his boyfriend with a laugh. “I love you John.”

 

“I love you too, Sherl.” 


End file.
